


Bad Moon Rising

by TheIndifferentDroid



Series: Bad Moon Rising [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-24 20:08:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10748913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheIndifferentDroid/pseuds/TheIndifferentDroid
Summary: You somehow manage to get a flat tire in a bad neighborhood after your closing shift at work. An unlikely stranger is willing to help, as much as you’re unwilling to accept it.





	Bad Moon Rising

The night was frigid and exceedingly dark, the heavy cloud cover blocking out any light from the moon. You hated working late, but that was exactly what you had done every day this week. Working late was one thing but working late in retail was another. At the end of a dayshift you could grab your stuff and leave. But a night shift just took it out of you. You had to restock and tidy up and didn’t end up leaving until an hour after the store had closed. Now you were exhausted and just wanted to get home, so you decided to take your shortcut. It would get you home faster but you had to drive through some sketchy areas first. During the day this wasn’t a problem, but now was nearly midnight and the city was basically dead. This route would get you home much faster, however, and all you could think about was getting in bed.

This part of town was dimly lit and prone to excess crime, but you only had a few miles to go until you got to the safer part of town away from the interstate. You turned up your music and sang along, trying to distract yourself from the situation. Your singing was getting interrupted every few lines by yawns, the little bumps in the badly paved road rocking you to sleep.

A large divot in the road, much bigger than all the others, jolted you out of your nearly sleeping state. You had taken this route before – during the day – and hadn’t remembered that hole; you know you would have made note to avoid it next time. You looked into your rear view mirror to catch a glimpse of the pothole, but it was too dark to make it out. Continuing on down the road, you turned up your music louder, attributing the misstep to your exhaustion.

Before you could nod off again, your car began to beep at you. You had to blink a few times before you could decide what your dash was alerting you to.

“Warning…? Low tire pressure?” You sighed. “Oh, what the fuck?”

You continued driving. You knew you couldn’t stop here; you had to get out of this neighborhood. Plus, it was a cold night. You reasoned with yourself that maybe the temperature had made your tire pressure a little low.

Then, above the blaring stereo, you heard a grating noise: the sound of your rim rolling along the street instead of your tire.

“No, no, no, no, no. Not here. Come on.”

You slowed to a crawl, still moving, hoping you could get just a bit further up the road before it was absolutely necessary to stop. But the longer you heard the noise, the more it made you cringe. You were damaging your car.

Sighing, you admitted defeat and pulled your car over under the nearest street light.

“Fuck.”

You took a deep breath before exiting your vehicle, catching a glimpse at the two driver-side tires, which appeared to be intact. Once on the sidewalk, you looked up and down the street. You noticed a rat scurrying under the overpass, rummaging through the litter left by the gutter punks through out the day. You held your arms around your stomach and shivered, from the cold and the bad feeling you had in your gut. It had become much colder just since you left work; your breath was now visible in front of your face.

There it was. A large nail was sticking out of your front, passenger tire. You must have run over a piece of wood instead of a pothole.

“Lovely.”

You took out your phone, noting the time. You knew your parents wouldn’t be pleased if you needed to call them at this hour. You’d probably scare them to death, not to mention the disappointment they’d feel if you had to ask for help on something you know they taught you how to handle on multiple occasions.

Looking around once again, you breathed heavily. You’d just have to do it yourself.

You popped the trunk, first looking for anything you could defend yourself with, in the unfortunate event you’d have to. There was a large, metal flashlight – a gift from your dad when you finally bought your own car – that could be useful. You took it in your hand, wielding it more like a sword than a flashlight.

You found the tire iron in a side compartment, trying to remember exactly how it worked. Both objects felt large and awkward in your hands.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

You looked up and down the street once more, making sure no one would be able to sneak up on you. You first attempted to hold the flashlight and take the lug nuts off the wheels at the same time, but you were going to need both hands to do the work. You placed the flashlight down, it making a scratching noise and rolling a few feet away, the light no longer illuminating the tire.

You placed the tire iron back on the lug nut, pulling with all your might, and then stepping on it to get some leverage. It didn’t budge.

“You know you need to jack the car up first, right?”

You jumped, the deep voice startling you, sending your heart into your throat. There had been no one on the street. Where was the voice coming from? Where was he hiding? 

You composed yourself. You didn’t want to acknowledge the stranger for fear of making you seem desperate and vulnerable. You just simply returned to your car, retrieving the jack from the other compartment. Noticing your hands were shaking, you stood there for a minute, concentrating on your breathing. Just ignore him, and he’ll leave you alone.

Your hands continued to shake as you placed the jack under where you assumed it should go. The metal wheels scraped against the concrete, making you cringe. Even though you knew the stranger was aware of your presence, you thought every noise you made would just draw more attention to yourself.

You backed up, looking at the jack. Something wasn’t right.

“You need the lever to raise it up.”

Your eyes grew wide, continuing to look at the jack, and your heart was in your throat again. You again refused to turn around, now realizing the voice was coming from behind you, thankfully not too close behind you. You repeated your path from seconds ago, ignoring your surroundings, walking back to your trunk, and grabbing the handle hidden in the darkness just below where the jack was situated earlier.

Turning the corner around the back of your car, you jumped. You raised your arm and wielded the short, metal handle in your hand. The owner of the voice - you presumed - was now prone on the ground next to your car, fiddling with the jack’s position underneath it. “Go. Away.”

The stranger startled at the sound of your voice. He rolled onto one side, looking up at you, his long dark hair falling away and revealing a face you didn’t expect. He was young, his sharp features softened by the shadows.

“Woah.” He lifted one hand up in defense. “You have the high ground.”

Even lying down, you could tell how big he was. You knew if he were standing he’d tower over you. Based on his musculature alone, he could jump up and take you down in an instant. You didn’t back down. And you weren’t going to let his face fool you.

His dark eyes squinted, trying to read you. “Come on. I’m just trying to help.”

“I don’t need help,” you spat back immediately. You bit your lip, realizing the lie.

The man scoffed and narrowed his eyebrows. “Alright, then.”

As he began to push himself upright, you backed up, continuing to wield the useless weapon in your grasp.

You were right. Once he stood up completely, he was at least a foot and a half taller than you. His shoulders were broad and intimidating. He gently tugged at his jeans, pulling them up slightly before hanging his large hands out of the pockets by his thumbs.

Your eyes met. His plump lips parted slightly as he faintly smiled.

“Be careful.”

Excuse me?

You stayed in your defensive position as you watched him walk away. You had apparently managed to come to a stop right in front of this man’s house. He walked up the steps onto his porch and retreated inside. It was so quiet now you heard the lock click on his door. You continued to watch the house as the lights went out in the front rooms.

You let your arms down as your shoulders dropped. He wasn’t so scary now that he was no longer a threat. You almost wished you hadn’t made him leave. The street felt less safe now that he wasn’t around. Reflecting back on him, he didn’t look so bad. He was beautifully built, as intimidating as it was in this situation. You know if you would have seen him at the grocery store or at the gym you’d act completely different. But you needed to protect yourself.

You sighed, nearly flustered, as you tried to focus on the task at hand. Placing the lever in the jack, you began the monotonous task of pushing and pulling the jack into the right height and lifting up your car, taking a lot longer than you’d anticipated. Even with the night being cold, you were working up a sweat. You still occasionally looked over your shoulder for either the man to return or a new danger to arrive, you weren’t entirely sure which. A siren yelled in the distance, growing closer before fading out again, making you even more anxious.

You lifted the car as much as you could, moving onto the lug nuts. You pulled on the iron, using all your weight to pull it back. It didn’t even give. You took it off and situated it parallel to the ground and began to step on it, trying to get the bolt to release. Your foot slipped off a few times before you gave up.

Before you knew it you were on the stranger’s porch, willing yourself to knock on the door.

You stood, frozen. You looked behind you once more before completely turning to face the door. Procrastinating, you reached your hand into your pocket to lock your car. As if someone would steal it. At least you felt protected. You raised your arm to knock, freezing once more, before finally rapping your knuckles against the chipped paint.

You waited. It was still dark inside. Still very quiet.

Your breath shuddered as you took a breath in. It’s okay. Just count to thirty then do it again.

You stood there, hands in your pockets trying to calm your nervous shaking and stay warm. “One Mississippi. Two Mississippi,” you whispered, before it was finally time to knock again.

You knocked, a little harder this time. Maybe he didn’t hear you earlier?

A voice yelled from inside. “What do you want? Go away!”

You turned and ran, clearing the three porch steps in one jump.

Reaching your car, shaking, you frantically tried to figure out what to do next. You played with the jack, thinking lifting the car more might help the tire loosen up more easily. In your frustration, you accidentally turned the lever the opposite way, completely releasing the hydraulics. Your car plummeted to the ground, crashing hard, the rim cracking against the ground. The harsh motion also set off your car alarm, since you had locked it earlier.

In a panic, you began to cry, shakily reaching for your keys to shut off the car alarm. So much for not drawing attention to yourself.

Once the alarm had been silenced, you sat on the ground, back against the car, admitting defeat. You pulled out your phone, already deciding you had done enough damage, and were lucky you hadn’t been robbed yet, honestly. It was time to call your parents.

Your eyes were blurred from the tears and the light of the screen was blinding you in contrast to the darkness of the neighborhood, but you noticed the streetlight above you suddenly dim. You could barely make out the figure standing in front of you, blocking the light. By its size, though, you could tell who it was.

“What the hell was that racket?” he asked. He somewhat chuckled, but you couldn’t make out his expression in the darkness. You wiped your face, not wanting to give away your mental state. You remained quiet, still determined not to let this stranger get to you.

“What? Don’t like to talk to strangers? Listen, I’m just trying to help get you out of this shithole.” You looked up at him, reluctant to make eye contact. Noticing you looking, he knelt down in front of you in an effort to become less imposing. He stuck out his hand. “I’m Kylo. Now we’re not strangers. Can I help you now?”

He kept his hand extended, at least for a full minute. You stared at it, at first out of spite. There’s no way this guy is just being nice to be nice. But the more time passed, you stared out of amazement. He was just as strong as he looked. He hadn’t budged.

You finally, reluctantly, shook his hand. “Y/N,” you said plainly.

You could see his face now that he was a little more in the light. His features softened, as if he were just as nervous for you to accept his hand. “Nice to meet you, Y/N. Now let’s get this tire changed.”

He hopped up and made quick work of returning the jack to the upright position and lifting your car, much quicker than you had. Before you knew it, you heard the noise of the lug nuts hitting the ground and looked over to watch him work, his muscles straining the sleeves of his shirt.

You sighed and dropped your head. A groan escaped your throat, almost unknowingly.

Kylo stood up and looked at you before tossing the ruined tire on the ground behind him like a rag doll. God, he’s strong.

“You aright?”

You shook your head, not even looking at him, as much as you wanted to.

He walked over to you again. “Hey, we’re almost done, okay? Just need to put the spare on now. Gimme your keys so I can get it out.” He outstretched his hand in front of your face and you stared at it.

You placed the keys is large hands, and he quickly moved to the trunk. You didn’t even care about the ridiculousness and danger of the situation anymore. You had almost calmed down in Kylo’s presence at this point, strangely enough, but you were trying not to think about that. The quicker you complied, the quicker you could get home.

“Hey, Y/N?” His deep voice called from the back of the car.

You only glanced back and up at him, exhaustion keeping you from talking or moving, but he motioned for you, holding his hand out to help you up. You took it and joined him to look into the trunk, both of you trying to ignore the physical contact.

“Notice anything?” he asked.

“Oh, fuck me!” you yelled, staring at the empty space where your spare tire should be.


End file.
